


Glitch-like Missteps

by ChibisUnleashed



Category: X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: AU, But CLAMP said the point of X was to watch Fuuma tease Kamui so I don't feel bad about this, But also games have improved a lot in 20 years so, Fluff, Humor, It feels weird calling this a modern AU when X was only set like 20 years ago, M/M, Modern AU, Rating for Language, SO MUCH FLUFF, it's really just 1.5k of them flirting, video games!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed
Summary: Kamui liked games, sure, but if Fuuma mocked him about his gameplay one more time, Kamui was turning off the console, he swore it.
Relationships: Monou Fuuma/Shirou Kamui
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	Glitch-like Missteps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KamuiWithFangs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamuiWithFangs/gifts).



There was probably a kill count somewhere on his screen, but Kamui never looked at it.

The statistics and achievements never mattered to him. Fuuma cared, but Fuuma was an overachiever. Kamui resisted shooting him in the back just to fuck up his stats a little, because that would be mean and he  _ liked  _ Fuuma, even if he liked messing with Fuuma, too.

Kamui still grinned at the thought. He could think about it, even if he didn’t really do it. 

“Do I need to remind you that we’re on the same team?”

Kamui bit his lip hard to keep himself from laughing into his headset mic. The timing was way too perfect, but Fuuma’s voice wasn’t irate enough for what it would be if Kamui had actually shot him. It must be about something else.

“Are you going to help me with this or not?”

Oh, was Fuuma getting overrun or something? Kamui had been looting corpses. “Yeah, sure,” he said, and made his little pixel-person run up to Fuuma’s pixel-person and shoot things. 

Alright, yeah. So there were a lot of enemies here. Fuuma had always been better at these games than Kamui was, but a lot of that had to do with Fuuma wanting to be the star of everything and Kamui just not caring that much. 

Kotori wouldn’t play games with Fuuma anymore, said he took them too seriously. Kamui didn’t mind. He liked listening to Fuuma curse unbecomingly into his ear. 

Like right now. Fuuma had,  _ apparently,  _ taken a lot of damage before Kamui had come over to help and this time he didn’t stop himself from snickering where Fuuma would hear it. 

“What are you laughing about? Watch me die. Then what are you gonna do?”

Kamui laughed outright. “Probably die right after.”

“That’s not supposed to be funny!”

Whatever. So maybe it had taken them a while to get here and starting back at the beginning would suck a little, but Kamui was really just here to spend time with Fuuma, so what did he care?

He didn’t. That was the point.

“It’s fine. You’ll bring us right back. You need the practice for the tournament anyway, right?”

Fuuma made a pained little sound, “The tournament will be a lot harder than this. If I actually wanted to practice, I’d have to up the difficulty in the menu screen.”

Kamui shrugged, despite being alone on his couch where Fuuma couldn’t see it. “Alright, sure. Why don’t you do that, then?”

“Because then you would die,” Fuuma said matter-of-factly, and Kamui didn’t have it in him to be offended, “and then I’d be playing alone. I don’t want to be playing alone. I’m supposed to be playing  _ with you.”  _

Kamui squirmed at the feeling of something fluffy and stupid rising in his chest. Only Fuuma could make him feel this way. Kotori liked to tease him about it, but so far Kamui hadn’t told Fuuma anything, and he swore Kotori to silence and she rolled her eyes but smiled and let him get away with it. 

“Okay,” Kamui breathed, because what else was he supposed to say to that? Did his cheeks feel warm? Was he  _ blushing?  _

Fuuma took out the last of their enemies, of course. Kamui’s aim had started to falter, which made sense when he was taking one hand off the controller to test how hot his face was. It wasn’t too bad. He’d be fine in another minute.

“I really hate to waste a medkit this early in, but since  _ someone  _ doesn’t feel like pulling their weight, I guess I’ll have to.”

“Sorry,” Kamui sing-songed, not sorry at all. He was having his own crisis, thank you very much, and murdering pixel-people just didn’t rank in his list of priorities. 

“Don’t even pretend, Kamui,” there was a laugh in Fuuma’s voice, and Kamui loved how he said his name, “I know you don’t care.”

“I care that you care,” Kamui informed him primly. He was really just correcting him for the sake of correcting him. Kamui was a brat like that, and he knew it.

“Yeah?” Fuuma asked, “And what good is that when you still let me take all the damage and have half the kills I do?”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Kamui rolled his eyes,  _ “Obviously.”  _

_ “Obviously,”  _ Fuuma mimicked, and laughed. “You’re so bad at this game.”

“I’m really not!” If asked later, Kamui would insist that he never screeched into the mic, but Fuuma probably felt differently about that right now. “Just because I’m not tournament good doesn’t mean that I suck! You take that back right now, Monou Fuuma!”

“Am I in trouble now?” Fuck, he teased just like Kotori, but somehow in his deep voice it  _ did things  _ to him that were very inconvenient at this moment in time. 

“You absolutely are!” Kamui said, gesturing angrily with his hand as if Fuuma would be able to see it and know how displeased he was. “I swear to God, Fuuma, I will turn off this game.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Shut up! Yes, I will!”

Fuuma was laughing at him now, loud and happy and it was impossible to stay mad when he sounded like that. Kamui sighed, put upon, and resigned himself to not actually shutting off the game, even if Fuuma deserved it. 

“You’re horrible,” Kamui said. And he meant it. Really, he did.

“No, I’m not,” Fuuma said through a chuckle, “You don’t mean that.”

Fuck. Of course he didn’t. How was Kamui supposed to maintain any respectability like this? He would like to keep his dignity off the floor, thank you.

Kamui turned his nose up and very subtly changed the subject, “Are we playing this game or not?”

He thought he heard the sound of Fuuma choking, but then he said, “Of course, of course,” and Kamui could tell he was being mocked.

“Don’t you dare make fun of me, Fuuma!” Kamui threatened, “I swear, I will punch you the next time I see you!”

Fuuma fucking  _ snorted.  _ He couldn’t even reply he was laughing so hard. Kamui almost threw the controller, except he kind of loved it when Fuuma sounded like this. It was better than the cursing, but only just.

“Monou Fuuma, if you’re implying my punches don’t hurt, I will  _ end  _ you!”

The laughing got louder, and now Kamui was grinning too. He didn’t even think it was that funny; Fuuma’s laugh was just contagious. He was never going to take Kamui seriously ever again.

“Damn it, Fuuma!” And then Kamui turned his little pixel-person around and shot Fuuma’s pixel-person right in the face out of sheer spite. “Take that! See how your stats line up now!”

There wasn’t even a break in the laughter, but it was a little muffled, like Fuuma had moved his mic away. He gasped in between, like he wasn’t getting enough air, and then he said something that Kamui was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Kamui froze on the spot. He hadn’t misheard, had he? There was no reason for Fuuma to be talking about olive juice right now or something equally inane, no. He’d said that. Had he meant it? 

“Wait, what?”

Fuuma’s laughter cut off just as abruptly. If not for the indication on his screen, Kamui might have thought the line went dead. But then there was a rush of air in his ear, and the muffled sounds of a mic being adjusted. “I mean,” Fuuma’s voice was back to sounding clear as a bell, as so Kamui also clearly heard just how awkward and unsure he was. It was hopelessly charming, of course. “Wanna go out sometime?”

It was Kamui’s turn to laugh. What a horrible recovery! That wasn’t smooth at all. But it was very Fuuma. So Kamui adored it, of course. 

Because he also adored Fuuma. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” And then, because he was an awkward teenager, too, “You mean as a date, right?”

Fuuma took a second, but cleared his throat and told him, “Yes. Yes, as a date.” Then much quieter, like he was saying it only to himself, “We’re dating.”

“We’re dating.” Kamui said it too loud, but he was just glad he hadn’t squealed into the mic. Squealing was Kotori’s thing, okay? Kamui never squealed. Just like he never screeched. “Omg, we’re dating.”

Fuuma snorted again, but Kamui ignored him this time. He was being ridiculous, so.

“So…” Fuuma said, interrupting Kamui’s small crisis, “Are we going to keep playing, or?...”

Kamui nearly fumbled his controller, but turned his pixel-person around and got them moving with only a small amount of glitch-like missteps. “Yes, right, the game.”

“We, uh,” Fuuma fumbled just as hard with his speech, “don’t have to keep playing if you don’t want to.”

“Fuuma,” Kamui almost sighed, but didn’t want  _ his boyfriend  _ to get the wrong idea, so he resisted. It was the perfect opportunity to say what should have been obvious, and Kamui smiled as he took it. “I love playing this game with you. Because I love playing this game  _ with you.”  _

Fuuma was quiet, and then Kamui heard a tiny, adorable, “Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Kamui grinned.

Fuuma took another long second, and then sighed. “We should have been dating a while ago, shouldn’t we?”

“Probably,” Kamui said, “but as long as we never ask Kotori about it, we’ll be fine. Now help me kill some things.”

Fuuma coughed. “Yes, Dear.”

Kamui’s jaw dropped.  _ Five seconds  _ into their relationship and Fuuma was already mocking him with endearments. The sass in that man!

...He was going to be the best. boyfriend.  _ ever. _


End file.
